A Brief Look into the Mind of Albus Dumbledore
by rachlan
Summary: Dumbledore POV after Harry calls out to him in the OOTP movie after the Umbridge/Trelawney incident in the courtyard .


**A Brief Look into the Mind of Albus Dumbledore **by Rachlan

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all the characters contained therein belong to JK Rowling. I just have an obsession with playing with them...

A/N: Order of the Phoenix movie based, takes place after the Trelawney/Umbridge spat in the courtyard.

* * *

"Professor Dumbledore! Wait! Professor Dumbledore!"

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, thank you very much, was avoiding a certain student, a certain Boy Who Lived. He ducked behind a tapestry where he knew the boy would not look for him. He put a hand under his eyes, trying in vain to stop the tears from coming. He hated what he was having to do, keeping Harry in the dark about everything.

Albus knew he should tell the boy, tell him everything, but he just couldn't bring himself- the boy was so young after all!

'Not so young,' his conscience reminded him.

Albus, mindless of the dirt and cobwebs he was sure to dirty his robes with, sank to the floor, feeling his bones creak as he did so. He put his head in his hands. No, Harry Potter wasn't so young anymore. Had he ever _really_ been young? Sure, the boy had looked young- still did, in fact- too much so, in Albus' opinion. He really should have a talk with those Muggles...

The elderly wizard shook his head, trying to clear his head. He leaned his head back against the stone wall behind him, enjoying the cool feel of them on his scalp. He smiled briefly at what anyone would think if they could see the great Albus Dumbledore now- sitting in what was no doubt _years _of accumulated dust in a cramped little space behind a tapestry of Bathilda the Brave.

Albus sneered. Great, indeed, and here he was, avoiding a fifteen year old like a coward. The word repeated itself over and over in his head. _Coward. Coward. Coward. _

Sometimes Albus absolutely hated his bloody life. Sure, he had lived a long life (big deal), was Headmaster of an illustrious wizarding school (so what), was chief warlock of the Wizengamot (woohoo), and lived in a castle that was over a thousand years old (and wasn't it drafty?).

Other than that, what did he have to show for himself?

'You defeated Grindelwald,' a voice in his head supplied.

"With a lot of luck and help from others," he murmured. He mentally smacked himself. "And now I'm talking to myself! Bloody fantastic!"

The man- and he was only that: a man, despite the pedestal everyone put him on, sighed. Just a man, a lonely _old _man who had nothing more interesting to do with his time than play in other people's lives. And wasn't that terrible of him? He really should just friggin' retire already and let some other poor sod deal with all the crap he had to put up with.

He banged his head lightly on the wall behind him. _Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump._

"Did you hear that?" a young voice from the other side of the tapestry startled Albus out of his musings.

Another voice answered, "This castle always makes strange noises."

Albus breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't been discovered, thank Merlin. I mean, how embarrassing _that _would be, to be found by a student.

The second voice again: "Why just the other day, I could swear I heard someone singing _Moon River_ from the Astronomy Tower..." The voice trailed off as the student's walked out of Albus' hearing range.

Albus' thoughts went back to the Boy again. They really were quite similar, he and Harry. He hadn't really thought on it until just that moment. Both with terrible childhoods (I really _do _need to talk with those Muggles, he reminded himself), both with huge burdens, both placed on pedestals, both orphans. "Oh Harry," he murmured mournfully. "How I wish I could do things differently for you."

Another tear trickled down the weathered cheek into the white beard below. "How I would change things if I could!" he continued.

The white-haired wizard put his hand on the floor and slowly, carefully stood up. He had wasted enough time woolgathering. He had so much to do: parents to deal with (monsters, the lot of them), papers to read over (could make excellent paper airplanes), laws to sign (do you know how tiring it got to write 'Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore' seventy times??), Ministers to kill (ok, only in his imagination, but still!) and...

...a vulnerable, miserable, scared teenage boy to tell the truth to. The whole truth.

Albus sighed heavily and started walking towards Gryffindor tower. He had some explaining to do.

Fin


End file.
